


Yultide Capers

by Illeana Starbright (SunlightOnTheWater)



Series: DC Drabble Collections [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, but only a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 13,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightOnTheWater/pseuds/Illeana%20Starbright
Summary: Batman and Robins (and friends) countdown to Christmas 2020 with 25 drabbles for 25 days. Drabbles are a mix of canon and various AUs I've written.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Series: DC Drabble Collections [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922062
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	1. Day 1: First Snow

**Day 1: First Snow**

* * *

It had been miserably cold in Gotham, the kind of cold that brought sleet and ice with it, for the last nine days. Damian had been grouchy since the awful weather had started, and Dick was honestly just tired. Being Batman, running Bruce’s company, and trying to parent a ten year old assassin who didn’t like being cold left him little time to even sleep, let alone destress. His eyes felt as if they were entirely made up of sand and the cold wind biting at his cheeks was the only thing truly keeping him awake.

There was a constant gnawing feeling in his stomach that he was ignoring in favor of catering to the nonstop nauseous sensation lingering in his throat. He thought that the last thing he’d choked down was a couple bites of his favorite sugary cereal before some Wayne Enterprises thing had popped up and he’d had to practically run out the door. That had been this morning, or maybe yesterday morning. Dick wasn’t really sure one way or the other. Time had started to blur together, only screeching into sudden relief when he opened his phone to text Tim, only to remember that he’d burned that bridge months ago.

Needless to say, Dick Grayson was far from operating at his best, which was probably why he didn’t notice it had started snowing early in Batman and Robin’s stakeout until Damian burrowed irritably under his cape. Dick blinked and then blinked again, his muddled, exhausted mind not understanding why the boy was huddled so close to him. Damian’s dark hair was damp and sleek and he was scowling up at Dick as if daring him to comment.

“Damian?” Dick asked uncertainly, wondering if Alfred had been right to frown so disapprovingly at him when he suited up earlier in the evening. He hadn’t thought he was tired enough to start hallucinating, but current evidence seemed to suggest that had been a faulty assumption.

“I dislike snow,” the boy replied waspishly. Dick blinked again and then glanced out across the rooftops, surprised to find them coated in a thin layer of fluffy, white. Snow was still drifting down, occasionally being gusted into his face like little stinging bug bites. Earlier he’d mistaken that for the sleet of the past few nights, blocking it out in an effort to focus on what little was going on below.

“We should head back to the cave for tonight,” Dick said, suddenly aware of how exhausted and worn down he felt. In the past he’d sent Bruce a dozen photos the first night it snowed in Bludhaven, purely excited by how pretty the fluffy white flakes made the city, and got one or two grouchy responses. Bruce had been just about as fond of the stuff as Damian seemed to be. An ache settled heavy in his chest and Dick plastered on a cheery smile to keep from crying. “There’s no point in staying out here watching nothing when we could be inside drinking Alfred’s hot cocoa.”

Damian made a little disapproving sound and shuffled out from under the Batman cape, shivering at the next cold blast of wind. He looked staunchly unhappy to be out in the elements, and gave nothing more than a token protest when Dick ruffled his hair before launching himself off the building. The cold wind was absolutely brutal against his face, but for a moment, flying free over a city freshly coated in white, Dick could almost pretend that everything was going to be okay.


	2. Day 2: Fireplace

**Day 2: Fireplace**

* * *

The Batmobile was coated in ice and snow. They had only just reached December a couple of days ago, and New Jersey wasn’t due for a major snowstorm for at least the next seven days. Alfred had only been upstairs half an hour previously to fetch a fresh cup of tea before settling in front of the monitor once more, and he hadn’t noted thick white flakes fluttering down in the solar powered lights that lined Martha Wayne’s perfectly preserved garden paths outside. The snow sticking to the Batmobile in a thick white blanket was a worrying anomaly, though it was not as worrying as the speed at which Bruce had screeched into the cave.

The young man emerged mere seconds after the vehicle had been slammed into park, cowl already shoved back from untidy dark hair. The low lights on the floor that illuminated the part of the cave that served as a parking garage made the thick sheen of ice glitter like it was covered in dazzling lights. The brightness nearly distracted Alfred from the realization that Bruce was not wearing the long black cape he had donned before he had left on patrol. That mystery was swiftly solved when the costumed crusader opened the passenger side door, sending a thick sheet of snow to the cave floor, and pulled out a small shivering boy.

Richard Grayson, still in costume, was almost entirely wrapped in Batman’s cape. The boy was all but shivering his way out of his guardian’s arms and hips lips were blue with cold. Bruce had the particularly uncomfortable look on his face that meant he was incredibly worried about something he didn’t know how to fix. That left it on Alfred’s shoulders to make sure that the unlikely duo came out of their nighttime activities without any permanent damage.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said quietly yet firmly. The young man glanced over immediately, senses still on high alert from whatever had happened on patrol to leave the pair in such a state. “Get Master Richard out of his wet things and into some dry clothes, quickly but carefully. I will light a fire in the living room fireplace and fetch as many blankets as I can for you to bundle him up when you come upstairs.”

Alfred barely waited for Bruce’s affirmative nod before rushing as quickly as he could up the steep steps that led into the manor. Lighting the fire took the longest since it required careful precision on the placing of logs and where to place the crinkled up newspaper to light it. Once that was done, he gathered the heavy winter throws from the closet they had been stored in last spring and piled them on the couch before bustling off to prepare a fresh pot of tea. When he returned to the living room fifteen minutes later, laden with a tray of piping hot tea, it was to the sight of Richard buried under a mound of blankets. The boy was cuddled into Bruce’s side, already sound asleep. Color seemed to be returning to him steadily while he slept.

Bruce was very nearly asleep himself, almost absently stroking Richard’s hair as he stared into the fire. Alfred smiled at the sight and returned to the kitchen. He would let the pair rest while he closed up the house for the evening. There had been little enough rest lately for the pair between holiday parties and the endless mission to clean up Gotham. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.


	3. Day 3: Decking the Halls

**Day 3: Decking the Halls**

* * *

_StephanieBrown created_ Operation Tinsel. _Stephanie Brown added RichardGrayson, JasonTodd, TimothyDrake, BarbaraGordon, DamianWayne, and CassandraCain_.

 _StephanieBrown:_ It’s time!!!

 _JasonTodd:_ Whatever this is, I want no part in it.

_JasonTodd has removed himself from the chat._

_StephanieBrown:_ Wow. Somebody has resting Grinch face.

 _TimothyDrake:_ Isn’t it a little early for Christmas puns?

 _TimothyDrake:_ Also what, exactly, is it time for?

 _StephanieBrown:_ It’s never too early for Christmas puns! And time to decorate, duh!

 _DamianWayne:_ I fail to see why we all need to be involved in your desire to decorate, Brown.

 _StephanieBrown:_ Because

 _StephanieBrown:_ I was thinking and I decided that the best place to start decorating would be…drumroll please…the Batcave!

 _DamianWayne:_ Father will be very displeased.

 _RichardGrayson:_ Yeah, he will.

 _RichardGrayson:_ I call dibs on putting Christmas lights on the dinosaur!

 _CassandraCain:_ I will wrap the penny.

 _StephanieBrown_ : I want in on that!

 _TimothyDrake:_ I’ll decorate around the computer then.

 _BarbaraGordon:_ I’ll make sure B is kept busy then.

 _RichardGrayson:_ You’re a goddess, Babs.

 _BarbaraGordon:_ So you keep telling me, Boy Wonder. B will be busy on the 5th. Take it or leave it.

 _StephanieBrown_ : Awesome! Let’s get decorating!

* * *

It was never a good night when one of Batman’s rogues managed to take the fight to the Bat, but it was particularly frustrating when it was someone like the Riddler who had pulled it off. Jason was practically seething when he followed another one of the man’s inane clues into the Batcave. Dick was already there, spinning around and around in the chair in front of the computer. Babs had taken the night off so she could spend some rare family time with her dad, and Bruce’s golden child had a bad leg, so he’d been put on comm duty.

That was actually the least surprising sight. The cave looked like Christmas had thrown up on it. “What the actual fuck?” Jason demanded and Dick cackled as he stopped his incessant spinning to grin at his younger brother. “Has Bruce seen this?”

“Babs saved the video footage of Bruce’s increasingly dead facial expression,” was Dick’s response. “Steph’s been making gifs of them and using them at random in every text conversation.”

Jason snorted, taking in the blinking Christmas lights on the dinosaur and the way the giant penny was wrapped up like a massive gift with a bright red bow, the kind you saw on holiday car commercials, perched on top. Someone had lined the computer with garland and more little twinkle lights. There were even some fake berry clusters dusted in glitter on the garland and it was somehow tied up with little red velvet ribbons. The floor was covered in clusters of fake snow with plaster snowmen and Santa Claus statues perched on top of the piles.

“How’d you get all of this done without B knowing?”

“See, if you’d stayed in the chat you would have already known the answer for that,” Dick said with an obnoxious grin. “Babs agreed to distract him so we could carry out Steph’s super secret plan.”

“The one time I should have stayed in a group chat,” Jason said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Normally group chats with his family ended up being knock down drag out fights with Dick alternately muting them or trying desperately to calm everyone down.

“I’ve found the Riddler,” Steph announced cheerily over the comms all of a sudden, her voice echoing through the cave via the computer’s speakers. “Now that Jason’s seen our tree-mendous decorations, can you send him my way?”

“Sure thing, Spoiler,” Dick called back as Jason groaned over the bad pun.

He was on his motorcycle and out of the cave before realization struck. “Wait, did Spoiler forge the last riddle just to send me to the fucking cave?” He was haunted by Steph and Dick’s raucous laughter in his ears all the way to the rendezvous point.


	4. Day 4: Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a quick note, today's drabble is set somewhere in my _Through a glass, darkly_ universe.

**Day 4: Christmas Tree**

* * *

Dick slipped through the window of the safehouse awkwardly, the bulky rectangular box tucked under one arm and the stuffed full backpack on his back making it difficult to maneuver as gracefully as he normally would. Carefully placing the box on the floor, Dick cautiously made his way through the three other rooms in the small apartment, checking to make sure there was no one there. It proved to be empty, which meant he now had a limited window of time to carry out his plan.

Dick hustled back to the living room and gently shed the backpack on the floor before opening the long cardboard box. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in the apartment right now, and besides his eyes were perfectly able to see in the darkness. One of the few perks to letting the Court of Owls mess with your genetics.

The tree inside was a tiny thing, barely seven feet tall and easily assembled in just three pieces. Dick fluffed the artificial branches and then hurried to his backpack. Inside were three plastic boxes of unopened gold and silver balls, along with a plastic bag of gold garland and another container with a dollar store sparkly star. It took a matter of minutes to put everything on the tree, pre-lighted of course. He plugged the tree in and grinned at the strange contrast between the festive tree and the dull minimalism of the rest of the safehouse.

Dick gathered the plastic containers and the cardboard container into a closet that solely existed for show before zipping up and shouldering his backpack. Around the corner and down the hall, he heard the soft sound of a door opening and knew he was out of time now. He was taking his life into his own hands with this particular stunt, but that was just a normal Friday night. Dick grinned, slung the backpack over his shoulder, and headed to the bedroom.

Slade Wilson, in full uniform, was already in the middle of the room with a handgun at the ready. He holstered the weapon when he saw Dick. “What are you doing here, kid?” he rumbled, lifting a hand to pull off his mask. He looked tired.

“Just dropping in,” Dick said cheerily. “I hadn’t heard from you for a while. Thought you might be dead.” Slade’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Dick grinned wider, mentally panicking. Slade Wilson was perhaps the only person who regularly saw through him, and that last line had just been stupid on his part.

“Why don’t you stay a spell then?” Slade said. Dick barely dodged the heavy hand that moved to clamp down on his shoulder, and only just. It was a good thing that this last job had apparently been enough to wear Deathstroke the Terminator out.

“Sorry Slade, but it’s still early tonight and I’ve got places to be. You know, a city to clean up and thugs to terrorize.” Dick waved his hand so the claws on his gloves glinted slightly in the moonlight before diving out the window. The last thing he wanted to do was stick around to see a tired, grouchy Slade’s reaction to the little present Dick had just left in the black-and-gold-Grinch’s living room. He’d get an earful about it later. For now, he was going to make a run for it while he still could. **  
**


	5. Day 5: Snowman

**Day 5: Snowman**

* * *

“It snowed!” Dick Grayson groaned and buried his head further under the covers. He’d finally collapsed into bed at three in the morning after filing an exhaustive and exhausting report for the Justice League on the Titan’s latest encounter with Deathstroke, which had left them with far more questions than answers. Kori had already been sound asleep, though finely honed battle instincts meant that she’d stirred enough to notice that it was him before sinking down into the covers again. Dick had been hoping to get a solid six hours of sleep before the demands of the day had him up and moving, but apparently it wasn’t meant to be.

“Daddy, wake up!” the high pitched little voice called from somewhere over his head. “It snowed!”

“I heard you the first time, starshine,” Dick said blearily, rolling over to be confronted with his excitable five year old daughter floating above him. Mar’i was the light of his life, but she was also tiny and had no concept of reasonable times to wake up, especially not if it was snowing. Kori had told him a long time ago that Tamaran was largely made up of jungle, so most of the planet’s inhabitants never saw snow unless they traveled up into the mountains. Mar’i spent at least half of the year with her mother on Tamaran, so snow was a novelty she seemed to never grow tired of.

“Come on, Daddy! Get up!” Mar’i demanded impatiently. “Let’s go outside!” Kori was laughing at them, her body shaking next to him with the effort of suppressing the noise. Dick tiredly tried to elbow her and was unsurprised when she lifted herself up smoothly to dodge it.

“Why don’t you go find your coat and mittens?” Kori suggested. “Your father and I will be out in a minute to help you with your boots.”

“Okay,” Mar’i agreed eagerly and zipped out of the room.

Dick sighed happily a moment later when Kori’s warm fingers pet his hair and she laughed softly at him. Then she rose, saying, “You’d better get up soon, or our daughter will be back.” Dick groaned but rolled out of bed, unsurprised to see Kori already gone. Since she’d gone to bed earlier than he had, she’d probably been awake for a while now.

By the time he dressed and made it out of the bedroom, Kori and Mar’i were already outside in the snow. That gave him time to down a cup of coffee, the caffeine pushing through his sleep fogged mind to leave him at least functional before he shoved on his winter boots, pulling on a heavy coat as he stepped out the door. The air outside was brisk and cold, though it lacked the biting wind of Gotham winters, at least for now. Dick shivered and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat as he headed towards the sound of his daughter’s giggling.

Mar’i’s dark hair, dusted with snow was one of the first things he saw when he rounded the corner. She caught sight of him and practically cannonballed herself at his chest, arms wrapped around his neck as he caught her. Mar’i smacked a chilly kiss against his check and then tugged away excitedly, calling, “Look what Mommy and I made!” The snowman she was gesturing to was leaning to the left and seemed to have a third eye in the middle of its forehead. The stocking hat jammed on its head was slowly succumbing to the pull of gravity. Kori was grinning at him from over its right shoulder as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Great job, sweetheart,” Dick told her and Mar’i beamed.

“You did very well,” Kori agreed, flying over to cuddle their daughter for a moment. “Now why don’t we go inside for breakfast before your father falls asleep again out here in the snow.” Mar’i let out a cheerful sound of agreement as Dick allowed Kori to herd the two of them back inside.


	6. Day 6: Hot Chocolate

**Day 6: Hot Chocolate**

* * *

It had been an absolutely miserable day outside, so naturally HIVE Academy had decided to wreak some havoc in the unpleasant weather. Raven had been glad for her cloak. It had shielded her from the worst of the sleet blowing like stinging needles. Beast Boy had shifted to a lime green polar bear, an unusual sight on any part of the planet, but the rest of Raven’s teammates had been forced to bear the full wrath of the unhappy weather during the, thankfully, short lived scuffle. While they were already outside, they’d done a short patrol around Jump City, only to find that the rest of their villains seemed no more inclined to venture out in the weather than the teen heroes were.

Once they’d returned to the tower, Starfire had immediately headed for the shower to clean the slush that had been crystallizing in her bright hair, while Cyborg complained about Beast Boy shifting into a dog and shaking most of the icy liquid free from his coat. Robin had slipped off into the shadows while Raven was hanging up her cloak to dry, his emotions fond and a little bit nostalgically melancholy. It seemed like he was growing better and better with each passing day at disappearing. Raven hated it. His rapidly growing skills were a reminder of how much Slade still haunted him, and of the way Batman made him never feel good enough. She wished she could wipe away that pain, but she also understood that her friend would not be himself without it. The best she could do was to let him confide in her, the same way he always let her confide in him.

When she found him again, he was in the kitchen with a saucepan. He was whisking in cocoa powder and sugar as the milk warmed, the sleeves of the overlarge sweatshirt he was wearing pushed back to keep them from getting in the way. He smiled at her when he noticed her silent presence and said, “Hey Raven, can you add in some of the chocolate chips?” She nodded, lifting the bag and carefully tilting the bag to let the chips fall in until Robin’s nod told her it was enough.

Raven watched the chips swirl and melt away slowly, sweet smelling steam rising up from the warm milk in little swirls. Robin added a few drops of vanilla, whisking vigorously for a few seconds before flipping off the heat and carefully distributing the freshly made hot chocolate into the eclectic collection of mugs their little team regularly used. “Help me carry them out?” Robin asked. The corners of his mask crinkled with the force of his smile as she silently lifted a hand and the four mugs floated into the air, the two leaving arm in arm to join their friends.


	7. Day 7: Manger

**Day 7: Manger**

* * *

This was not how Tim had planned for the night to go. He’d just crashed through the roof of St. John’s episcopal church’s annual manger scene, smashing the manger itself into crumpled wooden splinters. He’d pretty well killed baby Jesus too, squishing the plastic figurine’s head flat as a pancake. Tim had a brief moment to regret all the coming “Robin is going to Hell” jokes that would pop up on social media the moment channel 55 reported it on the 6 AM news before the ninja dropped through the hole Tim had made in the roof.

Most of the family disliked dealing with Gotham’s regular roundup of villains on principle, but having to deal with one who could hire ninjas was especially frustrating. The flurry of projectiles Tim launched at the ninja did nothing, but he had already expected that. His secondary was to punch the ninja in the face while it was busy deflecting, which worked better than he’d anticipated. The ninja flipped in the air like it belonged on some kind of cartoon, taking out one of the three wise men as it crashed into the far wall of the stable interior.

Tim launched another projectile, not really expecting it to connect, and was surprised when it sheared through black fabric to lodge in the ninja’s shoulder. He really should have been moving, throwing down a smoke bomb and escaping through the hole the roof, but he was curious. He watched as the ninja wrenched the birdarang free in a small shower of sparks. Tim let out a noise of excited realization as someone yanked him up by way of a fist bunched in the back of his uniform.

“What are you doing, Replacement?” Jason Todd snarled, but Tim’s mind was already racing a mile a minute.

“It’s a robot,” he announced, unaware that Jason was staring at him from underneath the shiny red helmet like he had well and truly lost his marbles.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The ninja’s a robot, probably controlled by some wireless signal. If we can lock down the signal, then we can track it back to the source and take out the root of the entire problem.”

“That’s great,” Jason said in a tone that suggested it was nowhere near great. “Now can we get out of here before we destroy this piece of crap nativity any more?”

“Oh, right,” Tim said, nodding agreeably. In all honesty, he’d already forgotten about the recovering ninja robot and the wrecked nativity around him, already three steps ahead and on his way to taking out the bad guy.

“Finally,” Jason groaned, practically tossing Tim through the hole in the roof. Then, to everyone on the comms tonight, “Heads up guys, Robin and I are tracking down a signal for the ninja robots.”

“Robots?” Bruce’s voice growled incredulously while, a little over an hour away in Bludhaven, Dick complained about them always getting the fun cases. Tim didn’t really hear Jason’s irritated response to their oldest brother, already tapping away at the computer on his wrist, working on finding the right signal so that the unfortunate demise of plastic baby Jesus would be worth it.


	8. Day 8: What do you buy the man who has everything?

**Day 8: What do you buy the man who has everything?**

* * *

“So what are you guys getting B for Christmas?” Stephanie asked from where she was slumped over a gargoyle’s back, her breath frosting out in pale fog out of her cowl.

“No idea,” Tim and Jason said at the same time before scowling at each other, or at least Steph assumed Jason was scowling at Tim. It was hard to tell from underneath the shiny red helmet.

“Really?” Steph asked plaintively. “No ideas at all?”

“I’m bad at gift shopping,” Tim said, which Steph already knew. Her former boyfriend might have been really good at treating people like puzzles to be solved when it came to wrapping up a case, but he was terrible at applying that to figuring out what presents to get for people.

“All B’s getting for Christmas is me in the manor with no guns for a night,” Jason added grumpily. “If he really wants something, he can buy it himself.”

“What about you, N?” Stephanie asked almost desperately. She’d been trying to come up with a gift for Bruce for weeks but had continually come up empty.

“The same thing I always get him,” Dick said distractedly from where he was leaning precariously around another gargoyle to stare down at something going on down below. Technically they were all supposed to be keeping an eye out for some gang smuggling drugs from Bludhaven into Gotham, but Dick was the only one who really seemed to be taking it seriously now that they were on day five of seeing nothing at all. “Socks.”

“What?” Steph sputtered, nearly falling off her gargoyle perch.

“Socks?” Jason managed to get out through a laugh. Dick nodded, leaning even further out so that only one foot and his fingertips where keeping him from falling.

Steph spared at quick glance at the others and saw none of her desire to yank him back reflected in their body language or on their faces. She turned back to watch him uncomfortably as Tim asked, “Why socks?”

“I asked B what he wanted for Christmas my second year in the manor,” Dick said, seemingly unaware of how they all leaned forward eagerly. Dick didn’t really talk about being Robin, or the early years when it had just been he and Bruce and Alfred together in the massive Wayne family manor. “He told me socks. I thought he was messing with me, so I bought him the ugliest looking set of argyle socks I could find.” Dick’s mouth quirked up in the corner as he added, “He wore them once a week until one of them developed a hole and Alfred threw them out. It kind of became a tradition after that.”

“Care if I jump in on that?” Steph asked as Dick stopped leaning so far and settled more safely back against the gargoyle. She swung her legs a little bit, like a little kid sitting in a too tall chair, to relieve some of the nervous tension that had built up from watching him. She knew Dick was good and all, but watching anyone lean out that far was nothing short of nerve wracking.

“Go for it,” Dick told her with a quicksilver grin, there and then gone a moment later. “You were a Robin too. You might as well get some perks out of it.” Steph grinned back, glad that her dilemma had been solved, before catching sight of someone darting like a rat between trucks.

“Hey, isn’t that Martinez?” she called and then had to bite down startled yelp when Jason practically lunged into her space so he could see. Ricky Martinez had been trafficking children and Jason was absolutely ready to murder the man’s entire operation. The rest of them were going to spend the evening doing their best to ensure minimal casualties.

Moments later Jason was dropping off the roof in a credible imitation of a vengeful Bruce, minus the cape and plus guns. Martinez let out a shriek, sounding like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and Steph heard Dick’s exasperated sigh as he jumped off the roof after his younger brother. Steph glanced back at Tim, who shrugged at her, and then the two of them launched themselves off the roof together to hopefully help Dick prevent manslaughter.


	9. Day 9: Snowballs

**Day 9: Snowballs**

* * *

Stakeouts were B-O-R-I-N-G boring! Especially in winter. Jason didn’t mind the cold, not really. He’d been born and raised in Gotham, and had spent far more of his childhood wandering the cold streets than he ever wanted to admit, but he’d expected his time as Robin to be more exciting. Not that it wasn’t exciting, per se, but sitting on a cold rooftop staring down at an empty warehouse was far from the occasional thrilling nights he got to spend punching goons.

Tonight was one of the few nights that Nightwing had made the trek over to Gotham to help Batman with a case, not that you’d know he was here to help by watching them. He and the big guy were in the middle of their fifth argument of the night, though they stopped talking every time Jason came anywhere close to them. It was like they thought he wouldn’t know they were fighting if he couldn’t hear what they were saying, which was just dumb. You could practically see the tension radiating off them at any given moment, which was totally making the stakeout even less fun than these kinds of things usually were. At least if it were just Jason and Nightwing then it would be tolerable, because the older teen was kind of fun, even if he tried too hard and couldn’t quite hide the fact that seeing Jason reminded him of something unhappy. Also Nightwing was plenty happy to ditch some of the Bat’s more stringent rules, which was how Jason had ended up going train surfing for the first time a couple months ago. Nightwing with Batman though was non-stop arguing and enough unhappy tension to make anyone’s skin crawl.

Apparently the argument had been declared over for the moment, not because they were done arguing, but because Batman had decided they were done and had jumped off the roof. “Real mature,” Nightwing snarled just loudly enough that Jason could hear him, shoulders stiff. The older vigilante crouched on the edge of the roof, seemingly glaring down at the empty street below. Jason knew he should be watching his own section of street, and probably keeping quiet too because Nightwing was definitely not his biggest fan, but the tension that normally left with the Bat was lingering. It was uncomfortable.

What he decided to do next was one of those stupidly impulsive decisions that usually got him in trouble at school. He quietly scooped up a handful of the grey-white snow that was lingering on rooftops from an early December snow, packing it into a ball while he surreptitiously glanced over at Nightwing to make sure the older teen wasn’t paying attention. “Hey, Nightwing,” he called as innocently as he could manage. The older teen half turned, and that was when Jason pelted him with the slightly slushy snowball.

For a moment there was dead silence as the snow and slush dripped down Nightwing’s shoulder. Jason had a brief moment to panic before the older teen’s shoulders relaxed and, almost faster than he could track, a snowball was flying across the space between them to smack into Jason’s chest. “Hey!” Jason yelped, slightly offended, but Nightwing was already launching himself off the roof with a wild laugh, leaving Jason with no other option but to follow him off into the night.


	10. Day 10: White Elephant

**Day 10: White Elephant**

* * *

It was Babs’ idea. That was what Dick kept telling himself as he looked around at the localized chaos that had taken over the Clocktower. Gotham’s Rogues had alternated between taking vacations and causing utter chaos every few days, and during one of the lulls Babs had floated out the idea of doing a White Elephant gift exchange with the Robins and Batgirls. Dick had agreed on the condition that there were specific gift limits. The last time they’d done an exchange with the Titans without anything more than a price limit, it’d been a disaster. They’d all vowed never to talk about it again. Babs had agreed and Steph had jumped out of practically nowhere to shriek, “Stuffed animals!” That had gotten them here.

Steph was perched on the back of the worn dark green couch with a small, stuffed purple bat perched on her head. She’d stolen it from Tim early on and threatened to bite anyone that tried to take it from her. They’d collectively decided not to risk it.

Tim was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, his head tilted back against one of the cushions so he could talk to Steph. He had a small stuffed alligator perched precariously on his chest. He’d unwrapped it after the second time someone had stolen from him. To he and Steph’s left was Cass, who was standing just to the right of Babs’ chair cradling a little brown otter stuffed animal to her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. No one had the heart to steal it from her.

Babs had a pink and white axolotl on her lap. She was petting it absently while she chatted to Damian. The boy was staring intently at her with the stuffed elephant Dick had purchased for his gift clutched possessively to his chest. Jason was leaning against the wall near the window, tossing an aquamarine colored platypus in a fedora that he’d stolen from Tim. Steph had probably bought it, judging by the way she’d cackled like a madman at Tim’s confused face when he’d first opened it.

Dick had ended up with a mouse in a sparkly tutu, undoubtedly Jason’s doing because he’d found it far too hilarious when Dick had been the one to open it. He’d grinned good naturedly, relieved that this was tamer than his last experience. He’d give the mouse to Lian. She’d be delighted with it.

Wrapping paper was spread all across the floor from their dramatic unwrapping techniques. It should probably be cleaned up sooner than later, but Dick was warm and safe and surrounded by his family. For now, he was going to sit back and enjoy it.


	11. Day 11:You had one job...turn off the oven

**Day 11: You had one job…turn off the oven**

* * *

They were in the middle of an all out fight with Mumbo the Magician, one of the Titan’s more exasperating villains, when the fire department cut straight through the middle of the battle. Raven launched Mumbo into a trashcan near an alley to keep him from turning one of the firehoses into a trail of handkerchiefs or something equally stupid. The trashcan clattered loudly into the alley and ended up flipping on top of a groaning Mumbo. Since the magician seemed to be out of commission, they all turned to watch the small parade of fire trucks head towards the ferry.

“Uh, are they heading for the Tower?” Beast Boy asked.

“Yes, they are,” Starfire said from where she was hovering above their heads. “Friends, there is smoke coming up from the tower.”

Robin resisted the urge to rest his head in his hands with a groan. His last fight with Bruce had left him unwilling to go back home for Christmas, and in an effort to cheer him up, the team had suggested they make their own Christmas dinner. Everything had been going smoothly until Mumbo had decided to spread his own particular brand of Christmas cheer. “Did you forget to turn off the oven?” Cyborg demanded, scowling at Beast Boy.

“I thought you were going to do it,” Beast Boy protested immediately.

“It doesn’t matter who didn’t do it,” Raven droned, staring them both down. “What matters is that our home is on fire.”

“I will fly over and see how much of our home is damaged,” Starfire volunteered before shooting off into the pale pink and blue evening sky.

“I’ll just go order us a few pizzas,” Robin said tiredly.

“I’ll come with you,” Raven offered as Cyborg and Beast Boy burst into the barely held off argument behind them.

The last shout they heard as the rounded the corner was Cyborg saying, “I gave you one job! Just one job! Turn off the oven!”


	12. Day 12: Nutcracker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this an AU of an AU because it is set in my _Raise Your Glass_ Robin age reversal AU, but the Joker has absolutely been dead for several years by the time this drabble is supposed to be taking place.

**Day 12: Nutcracker**

* * *

Some days it really did not pay to get out of bed. Damian was still adjusting to the reality that Father was dead and he was running about the rooftops at night as Batman. Mother was doubtlessly pleased. Damian, on the other hand, was markedly less pleased. Years ago, when he had been young and desperate for Grandfather’s approval and Mother’s love, he had vowed to become a better Batman than Father could ever dream to be. That was before he had come to live with Father and Alfred in a lonely, too big mansion while Gotham attempted to eat them alive.

The manor was no longer so empty, not with Jason and Tim arguing in the halls and Dick swinging from the chandelier or jumping from the tops of the cabinets. Damian was also no longer lonely. Not with Stephanie Brown texting him asinine memes at the most inconvenient times, Colin showing up just to read near him, Maya’s poorly taken pictures from her cell phone to let the rest of them know she was still alive, and Maddie just popping in whenever she felt like it. It did feel wrong with Father gone, but Damian anticipated that he would grow used to that in time.

Somewhere over the years, as Father continued to collect lost children the way most people collected coins or baseball cards or other items chosen purely for sentimentality, Damian had come to realize that he no longer desired to be Batman. He had created a mantle for himself and a home on the shadowed streets of Bludhaven where he was only spoken of in hushed whispers. It had been something he could be proud of, and he had been forced to set it all aside in the face of Father’s untimely, and frankly inconvenient, death. On nights like tonight, he found himself seriously beginning to regret that.

The Christmas season seemed to bring out the worst in Gotham’s assorted villains. Damian still remembered the winter when he was twelve and Mr. Freeze had somehow besieged the city with demonic looking snowmen. Tim still grumbled about his first Christmas as Batman’s sidekick where the Riddler had used Christmas puns as an excuse to wreak havoc and Jason refused to talk about the winter where Calendar Man had decided to carry out a diabolical series of Advent Calendar crimes, all of them culminating towards attempting to bomb city hall.

This year was apparently the Joker’s turn, and he’d decided to build a massive, mechanical nutcracker to smash up the city. Between trying not to get tangled up in the thrice damned Batman cape (which seemed to be weighted to cause the most possible inconvenience) and trying to keep an overly curious Robin safe, he was about ready to scream. Jason was, thankfully, patrolling Bludhaven so Damian at least didn’t have to worry about the Lazarus Pit overtaking the revived teen, but Tim was present and being entirely unhelpful. He’d tangled with some of Black Mask’s men early in the night, and the altercation had apparently left him disinclined to give Batman a hand.

“I’m going to crack you like a nut,” the Joker cackled as his massive nutcracker snapped mechanized jaws inches from the edge of Damian’s cape. Damian tutted unhappy as Dick alighted on the edge of the roof next to him, still eyeing the giant machine with suspiciously bright eyes.

“Do you think one of Tim’s little bugs would help?” the boy asked, head tilted like a curious bird before they both had to jump back to avoid another chomp of the mechanized mouth.

“No names in the field,” Damian correctly seriously even though he had long suspected that Joker already knew who they were and was simply too mad to care. “And Shrike is not in the mood to help Batman.”

“But he’ll help me, right?” The little bit of uncertainty in the little boy’s voice made something in Damian’s chest ache. He ruthlessly pushed the feeling down to yank Dick onto the next rooftop.

“Yes,” he answered, quickly herding the boy two buildings over while Joker’s monstrosity marched stiffly after them. “Find a safe hiding spot and work out a plan with him. I’ll distract Joker.” Dick nodded stiffly and then was gone, silent as a shadow. Damian didn’t bother trying to track him. Instead he shot out a grapple, leaping off the building and flying straight past the massive nutcracker’s face.

“Cutting it a little close there, aren’t you Batsy?” Joker hollered as Damian sprinted across the rooftop to leap off and grapple towards the next building. He could hear the nutcracker stomping off after him, leaving massive potholes in the road below its heavy feet.

To their credit, Tim and Dick apparently had thrown a plan together quickly because Damian was barely three blocks down the street when he saw a flash of Robin’s yellow lined cape come out of nowhere. The boy smacked something down on the back of the nutcracker’s head before swinging away. The nutcracker took two more jerky steps before its foot suddenly froze in midair. There was a brief pause as the Joker frantically jerked on the controls before the nutcracker began tilting forward with a groan.

The Joker shrieked as the nutcracker began to fall forward and Damian held in an exasperated sigh as he swung forward to save the psychotic clown’s life. He landed on the next roof, Joker in tow, in time to hear Dick’s delighted cackled as the nutcracker crashed onto the ground. The little boy’s grin was bright and eager, just like the ones in the newspaper photos with the flying Graysons. Damian only wished it wasn’t because of destroying Joker’s crazy machine. Damian kept the clown slung over his shoulder as he headed for the nearest police station, doing his best to ignore the way the Joker was wailing about his fun being ruined and really regretting his decision to get out of bed that morning.


	13. Day 13: Gift Returns

**Day 13: Gift Returns**

* * *

Sometimes Stephanie hated that she’d decided to get a part-time job for the holiday season. It was like the worst possible people were the ones who decided to come out and shop, especially today. She was working the return counter, which had been flooded with annoyed customers (mainly middle-aged women with soccer mom haircuts) stomping up to argue over the very simply logistics of returning the item in question. Currently the woman she was in the middle of a less than productive conversation about why the store couldn’t accept returns without a receipt.

“I just want to return _this_ ,” the woman said, shaking the jacket in question so vigorously that her poufy brown hair, which was spilling out from underneath her maroon stocking hat, vibrated with her motion. “Why is that so hard to understand?”

“Ma’am, I need either your receipt for the purchase or the gift receipt,” Steph repeated for what felt like the millionth time that conversation. “Otherwise store policy does not permit me to refund the purchase.”

“This is unbelievable,” the woman scoffed. “I’ve never had to show a receipt before.”

_Probably because you bullied all the other store clerks to tears_ , Steph thought privately. Personally, she just wanted to punch the woman in her round, angry little face, but it was so not worth dealing with a lawsuit over.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but this is store policy,” Steph said dully, doing her best not to sound utterly done with this whole conversation.

“I want to speak to your manager,” the woman said, sticking her nose in the air in a way that was, quite frankly, hilarious.

Steph was reaching over the lift her phone so she could page a manager on duty when a voice from behind the woman said, “Just show ‘er the damn receipt or get outta the way!”

Angry Woman puffed up like a furious bird and whirled around, only to freeze. “I’ll, uh, be back later,” the woman said, trying to still sound angry before rushing off.

Steph watched her go, utterly bemused, before turning to realize exactly what had made the woman so eager to leave. Harley Quinn, dressed in a neat business suit, was next in line. “I just need to return this, hun,” she said, placing a gauzy looking nightgown on the counter with its tags still attached. Harley dug in her pocket for a moment and then came up with a piece of paper and a credit card, placing them on top of the nightgown. “Here’s the receipt and the card it was on.”

“Okay,” Steph said, feeling more than a little dazed as she processed the transaction, stapling the refund receipt on top of the old one and handing it back with the card. “Here you go. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks,” Harley said cheerily and sashayed out of the store.

“Was that Harley Quinn?” the customer who’d been waiting behind Harley asked, sounding just as dazed as Steph felt.

“Yeah,” Steph agreed and they shared a bemused, did-that-really-happen look before and impatient cough from behind them snapped them both into action. “What can I help you with today?” She rushed through the next transactions, mind a thousand miles away. She couldn’t wait to tell Tim what had just happened.


	14. Day 14: I hate Christmas carolers

**Day 14: I hate Christmas carolers**

* * *

Selena Kyle was having an absolutely splendid night. She’d finally gotten Bruce away from the horde of children he seemed to have adopted and out for a romantic evening on the town. They’d had a delightful dinner at the new little Italian restaurant just a few blocks from downtown and then strolled through the park, admiring all the Christmas lights the city always put up, despite how much of a pain it was to recreate the displays after various villains destroyed them. She’d even persuaded him to come back to her place for a drink.

One drink turned into two and they had been laughing over Bruce’s narrow escape from persnickety old Samantha Bellvue at the latest charity dinner he’d attended when the doorbell rang the first time. Selena rose to answer her door and found herself face to face with a small group of bundled up elementary schoolers accompanied by a pair of high school girls. “Hi,” one of the little girls chirped, smiling a gap toothed smile. “We’re caroling!” She paused, as if planning to stop there, and one of the high school girls gentle jostled her. “Oh! Can we sing for you?”

“That would be delightful,” Selena said with a smile over the top of her wine glass, doing her best to keep smiling while the kids sang an off-tune version of “O Holy Night” before hurrying off to the next apartment with cheery waves.

Selena shut the door and crossed to place her glass on the kitchen counter with a wry smile. “Since our conversation’s already been interrupted, do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?” she asked with a smile that she knew was charming.

“Go right ahead,” Bruce said with a responding smile, his eyes following her as she sashayed out of the room.

Selena had just stripped out of her cocktail gown when someone knocked at the door again. She pulled on her fluffy pink bathrobe and belted it firmly around her waist, hurrying out of her bedroom just in time to see Bruce open the door. She had to shift into the kitchen to see past Bruce’s bulk, and even then she only caught a glimpse of the group of adults in deep green choir robes. The second set of carolers sang “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” before bustling off. Bruce closed the door and turned to her with a crooked smile.

“Your apartment’s just buzzing with activity tonight,” he said and Selena stifled a laugh behind one hand.

“I had better go get changed before someone else-” She was cut off by another knock on the door.

Bruce peered through the peephole and then turned his head to grin at her, shoulders shaking slightly. Selena waved a trembling hand at him before stifling her laughter in her arms as he opened the door for a third set of carolers, this time singing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” As soon as they finished and Bruce closed the door, she broke out in hysterical laughter. “I really hate carolers,” she managed to get out between bouts of laughter, well aware that Bruce was laughing too.

When they finally calmed down, Bruce suggested, “Why don’t you get changed and we’ll head over to the manor? The boys are all out for the night, and I can promise that there will be no more carolers.”

Selena let out another little burst of laughter and then nodded, offering him a genuine smile. “I’d like that,” she said and then hurried off to change before another group of carolers decided to show up.


	15. Day 15: Candy Cane

**Day 15: Candy Cane**

* * *

The first one was hanging from the door of his apartment, rented under the name of Joe Thompson. Jason snorted and tossed it on the kitchen counter when he entered, assuming that it was just something cutesy the landlord had decided to do around Christmas. He’d almost forgotten about it two days later when the next one showed up. This time it was in one of his safehouses just a mile and a half from downtown Gotham. It was one of the fruity ones in a bright green that practically blinded him from the cheap, grey counter. Jason stared at it like it was a live bomb before throwing it in the trash.

He tried to forget about it, but the damn things kept showing up all over the place. His apartment and his downtown Gotham safehouse had only been the beginning. Candy canes showed up in both of his other Gotham safehouses and his one rarely used one in Bludhaven. The last straw was when his latest weapons shipment was replaced with packing peanuts and traditional red and white striped candy canes. Jason kicked the box, silently furious, and headed for Bludhaven. This kind of thing had his big brother’s bad sense of humor and moral alignment all over it.

Jason burst into Dick’s apartment, not caring that it was just after four in the morning and his big brother had probably just gotten to sleep not long ago. He almost got hit in the face with an old fashioned alarm clock for his trouble. He dodged and fond himself looking at the bleary Dick, who was still partially tangled in his sheets. “What the fuck is up with all the candy canes?” Jason demanded.

“What?” Dick slurred out.

“The candy canes,” Jason growled. “At my apartment, my weapons shipment, and even my fucking Bludhaven safehouse.”

“You have a safehouse in Bludhaven?” Dick asked, rubbing at his eyes and then lifting a hand to run it through his messy hair. “And someone…put candy canes in it?” He paused, staring at Jason, and then said, “I’m still dreaming.”

“I can shoot you if you’d like to be proved wrong,” Jason said, reaching for one of his guns.

Dick dropped his head onto the pillow with a groan. Jason stared at him, trying to decide what to do next. Dick seemed entirely confused about the whole situation, which meant Jason had picked the wrong person. He was saved from having to explain by Dick lifting his head and saying, “Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but maybe go bother Steph. She kept replacing B’s batarangs with gingerbread men last week.” Jason let out a little choked noise that his brother ignored. “Now can I please get back to sleep?”

“Sure, Dickhead,” Jason replied blithely, heading for the window. There was only a few hours of night left, and he needed to find Stephanie Brown.


	16. Day 16: First Meeting with Santa

**Day 16: First Meeting with Santa**

* * *

“Why are we here again?” Damian snarled in a way the boy would probably insist wasn’t sullen as they made their way through the crowds at the mall.

Stephanie Brown cackled beside him and then swung around to walk backwards in front of him. “Because you’ve never met Santa and that, my little friend, is a travesty,” she said.

“We are not friends,” Damian growled. “And that still explains nothing about why we are here.”

“ _You_ are here to meet Santa, _I_ am here to supervise, and Cass is here to…you know, I don’t actually know why Cass is here.”

“Protection,” Cassandra Caine said bluntly. “For Santa.” Brown cackled, but Damian saw the corner of Caine’s mouth quirk up, which meant she was joking.

“Oh, look! There he is!” Brown practically bounced in place as she caught sight of the long line of children waiting with their parents to sit on the lap of some man hired to pretend to be the mythical Santa. Damian tutted unhappily and Caine reached out to gently pat his shoulder once as Brown led the charge towards the line.

The line slowly inched forward. Damian scowled unhappily and debated the merits of causing a scene to escape this absolutely humiliating turn of events. Brown had arrived early in the morning to practically drag him from the manor, insisting with manic cheer that she had plans for them. Father, still half asleep and only on his second cup of coffee, had waved them off absently, so Brown had successfully managed to rush Damian out the door and into the waiting taxi with Caine. Once she had revealed her ridiculous plan, Damian had hoped that Caine might come to her senses and offer an alternative, but instead the former assassin had nodded along in sage agreement. Now, only minutes from the dreaded indignation, Damian found himself running out of options.

Grayson would provide an out if asked, but he was away on business with the Titans and, as such, out of reach except in dire emergencies. Todd was not worth considering, and Drake would simply find Damian’s current predicament amusing. Father would be at Wayne Industries by not, and would be entirely displeased should one of his sons stab a mall store Santa. Damian was stuck.

After what felt like an eternity of stewing in enraged silence over the coming humiliation, Damian found himself shoved forward at the front of the line. “And what would you like for Christmas?” the sweating man in the fake suit asked Damian with a wide, bland smile. The boy could hear the click of Brown’s cell phone camera.

“For this to be over with,” Damian said stiffly, practically launching himself away from the man and storming off, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Caine caught up to him moments later, Brown still snickering behind them.

“Come,” Caine said firmly, tugging Damian out a side door and into the snowy courtyard area beyond.

“Hey, where are we going?” Brown called.

Caine smiled conspiratorially at Damian before turning to Brown with a serious face. “Snowball fight,” she said simply. “To regain Damian’s lost honor.” Damian felt himself grin at her and they both rushed to make snowballs, flinging them as Brown let out a startled yet delighted sounding squeal and dove for cover.


	17. Day 17: Even Villains Celebrate Christmas

**Day 17: Even Villains Celebrate Christmas**

* * *

Christmas Eve was the only day of the year where Arkham Asylum could be ablaze with light and sound without anyone panicking. Even villains deserved to be able to celebrate Christmas. Poison Ivy, currently locked up for her latest attempt to turn Gotham into a living garden of poisonous plants, had been allowed to help cultivate the poinsettias. Each one had grown nearly twice the size of those found at the local grocery stores and plant nurseries.

Harley Quinn, who was still waiting for the Joker to break her out, had been placed in charge of decorations. Everything was red and black instead of red and green, but did actually manage to look like it was a Christmas party instead of some clown themed death trap. She and Calendar Man had set up the tree together, covering it in so much garland and tinsel that it was almost reflective. Most the guards and several of the other friends cringed when they caught glimpses of it and were unable to stare at it head on, but Ivy had declared it perfect, which had shut down the question of whether or not it should be redecorated right from the start.

The Riddler set up the Christmas themed cause and effect bingo, with help from a rather grouchy Killer Croc, who shut down the more absurd riddles the man wanted to use as clues. The night of the little party, Mr. Freeze was even allowed to create icicles to dangle from the tips of the rather reflective Christmas tree branches.

The asylum kitchen, naturally, provided the food. Neither the guards nor the prisoners were allowed to help with that. It had been deemed long ago that the temptation to poison an inmate would eventually prove too much to take. The asylum staff had decided to head that problem off at the pass. The kitchen staff went through regular psychological screening, and would be much less likely to snap and poison the villainous partygoers.

Just as the clock struck nine, those prisoners that were able to be properly restrained were taken to the main floor to celebrate, while the rest were delivered their Christmas goodies in their cell. Cheery holiday music drifted through the loudspeakers, as the asylum celebrated, and for one night there was peace. Tomorrow it would be back to chaos as usual.


	18. Day 18: Bruce wants to make Christmas dinner

**Day 18: Bruce wants to make Christmas Dinner**

* * *

Alfred’s oldest brother, who was nearing ninety, had fallen down the stairs at home and broken his hip just a week before Christmas. Alfred had been silently fretting in the manor, yet determined to stay. It had taken the combined efforts of Bruce, Dick, and Barbara Gordon, the convince the man to go spend time with his family during the holidays. The man had caved, and before he’d left, he’d provided the number for a catering company that would be together an adequate Christmas dinner. Bruce had agreed to call the company, but had impulsively decided that he would put together his own meal four days before Christmas. He was beginning to regret that now.

Bruce stared mournfully down at what was supposed to be a ham as the fire alarm screamed continually above his head. Dick, who was perched on the counter nearly the newly opened windows, seemed to be doing his best not to laugh. The boy had been dropping hints every since Bruce had made that fateful decision that the man might want to reconsider. Bruce had insisted that it couldn’t be that hard. He had been wrong, as it turned out.

“We never mention this to Alfred,” Bruce said seriously. “Ever.”

“Okay,” Dick agreed far to easily. Bruce stared at him suspiciously. “I’m pretty sure he’ll figure it out on his own once he sees the pan.” Unfortunately, Dick was probably right. Bruce decided to move on for his own sanity.

The ham was still smoking profusely, meaning the fire alarm wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Bruce found a couple of mismatched potholders and scooped the whole thing up, marching pointedly out of the big sliding glass door off one of the living rooms to finish smoking on the concrete patio. When he came back in, he found that Dick had managed to get high enough to take the batteries out of the screeching fire alarm. The boy launched himself off the top of the fridge to land on Bruce’s shoulders, leaning over the man’s head to grin down at him. “So what are we doing for dinner then?”

“We’re going to have to see if we can order in from somewhere,” Bruce said with a sigh. “I’ll start making calls.”

“I’ll start cleaning then,” Dick said cheerily and then flipped off Bruce’s shoulders to land casually on the floor.

“Be careful,” Bruce warned absently, already rifling through the drawers trying to find the place where Alfred hid the takeout menus, for emergencies only of course. He hoped Alfred was having a better start to his Christmas than he was.


	19. Day 19: Nightwing caught by mistletoe

**Day 19: Nightwing caught by mistletoe**

* * *

Fighting Poison Ivy and her pet sentient plants was never a walk in the park. More than a few uniforms had been shredded on various occasions and Ivy’s tendencies to make her babies poisonous only made everyone’s jobs harder. Her last batch had left Bruce more paranoid than usual. It had been a headache and a half to talk him back into the cave so Dick and Tim could come up with an antidote. This time it didn’t look like the plants were poisoned, but that meant little in the face of Ivy’s botany insanity.

Dick flipped over a bundle of vines that had stabbed out at him, a handful of leaves brushing his cheek. He had barely landed on the ground before he was leaping again, avoiding another blow. Facing down Pamela Isley was always a task easier accomplished with backup, but Bruce and Tim were at a holiday party, which was the whole reason Nightwing was in Gotham to start with. Dick would have much rather been in Jump at the Titan’s Christmas Party that Beast Boy and Cyborg had thrown together, but Tim had called a week ago and shyly asked if his big brother could cover Gotham during the night of the annual Christmas Eve Charity Ball. Dick had said yes.

He hadn’t wanted to. Kori had promised that she would be coming after being off planet for a mission with the Green Lantern Corps for almost six months. Dick had wanted to be there to welcome his girlfriend home, but the last time he’d ignored a little brother, it had ended disastrously. The Joker had probably made sure that Jason had lived just long enough to curse Dick’s name. He wasn’t going to let it happen a second time, even if he and Bruce were technically not speaking at the moment.

Another close dodge had his cheek bleeding from a cut, this particular plant seeming to boast razor sharp leaves instead of thorns like Ivy’s previous batch. Dick’s next dodge ended in a bad landing when one of his feet landed on a moving vine. He was in the middle of a sloppy feeling backflip in an attempt to regain his footing only to have Ivy’s vines wrap him up in midair. Ivy appeared moments later, sauntering out from between shifting vines like a queen walking a velvet carpet line by her adoring subjects. She was bundled up in a deep green winter parka to shield against the cold with a nice gray faux fur lining. “Hello Nightwing,” she said, her voice the same rich, mellow tone he always remembered it being. “So nice to see you again. It’s been too long.”

“Hi, Pam,” Dick replied with a grin, silently relieved that she seemed to be in a particularly good mood. As Poison Ivy, Pamela had always been surprisingly considerate about the Robins and their ability, but as they reached adulthood her tolerance of them had waned, or maybe it was more realistic to suggest that she had a very low tolerance for adult humans in general. Dick wasn’t really sure. Regardless, she seemed to have moments of softness towards Dick, even if they were few and far between. “Sorry I haven’t been around much, but B and I are on the outs right now.”

“Teenagers,” Pam sighed as she carefully reapplied her ruby red lipstick with the help of a compact mirror. Dick decided not to remind her that he’d turned twenty several months ago. “I presume you’re here because the little bird asked then?” Dick nodded and was opening his mouth respond when a new, delicate looking plant curled playfully over his shoulder. His attempted reply turned abruptly into a startled yelp. “Mistletoe,” Pamela said with laughter in her voice and her shoulders shaking just slightly with the force of suppressing it. “Such a lovely holiday tradition, though it isn’t sturdy enough to hold anyone up, even with enhancing. That’s where the Boston Ivy comes in.” She smiled at herself in the compact mirror, and Dick silently watched the transition from friendly botanist Pamela Isley to Poison Ivy in an instant. Still there was nothing in her posture that suggested hostility, which was reassuring.

“I’ll just be going now,” Ivy said with a toss of her thick red hair. “I have no desire to tangle with your backup. I do believe the mistletoe will be a nice surprise for her though.” Then she was clicking off on her high heels before Dick could even inform her that there was no backup. Great. He was going to be hanging out for a while then.

Dick was proved wrong a moment later when a bright, bubbly voice called, _“Nightwing!”_ Kori practically appeared moments later, beaming brightly at him. She was a welcome sight with her hair blazing like a trail of liquid fire down her back and her green eyes glowing in the shadows of the Gotham night. “Our friends told me all about your important mission tonight, and I thought you might welcome my company, though you seem to be a bit tied up at the moment.” Dick laughed and Kori grinned impishly at him. Then she seemed to brighten further as she took in the plants. “Oh! I believe there is an Earth tradition about this one,” she said, reaching out to gently pluck a sprig of mistletoe from the plant that was curling around Dick’s shoulder like a particularly friendly cat.

Dick had a brief moment to wonder if Kori was thinking of the correct tradition, before she floated up slightly and kissed him. When she pulled away, she beamed at his gobsmacked expression. “Now, let’s see about getting you down from here.”


	20. Day 20: Reindeer make terrible pets

**Day 20: Reindeer make terrible pets**

* * *

“No. Just…no.” Bruce sounded so very tired. Dick paused halfway into the cave, stopping so abruptly that Tim bumped firmly into the middle of his back and almost sent both of them toppling down the stairs.

“I could not simply leave him there,” was Damian’s stiff, unhappy reply. “He was being mistreated.” Bruce let out that loud, exhausted sigh that he always did when he thought one of his kids was being particularly troublesome.

“Then you turn in the person or people in question,” Bruce said. “Otherwise the system does not work and you alleviate one problem only to let more issues like this happen in the future.”

“He still has plenty of other victims,” Damian replied snippily as Dick and Tim exchanged curious, and slightly worried, glances before creeping down into the cave. There, standing across from an exasperated Bruce, was Damian. The boy was holding the lead of a rather battered looking Reindeer. Dick wheezed.

“We’re not keeping it,” Bruce said, turning to look at Dick as if looking for help.

“Oh really?” Dick turned to Damian and asked, “What’s his name?”

“Blitzen,” Damian replied promptly, only looking startled for a brief moment before coming up with a name on the fly. Dick turned back to arch an eyebrow at Bruce.

“We’re not keeping it,” Bruce repeated, but he mostly just sounded resigned.

“Just keep telling yourself that,” Dick said and then walked over to help Damian get his newest animal settled while Tim crumpled in a laughing heap behind them.


	21. Day 21: Ugly Christmas Sweater

**Day 21: Ugly Christmas Sweater**

* * *

When Jason had startled settling into the manor, he’d expected Dick to be the one with the collection of tacky Christmas sweaters. He’d been so, so wrong. It had actually been Alfred who had emerged the first of December wearing a grey sweater with a kitten playing in a strand of sequin Christmas lights. Jason had been struck into dumb silence at the sight, but Bruce had meandered past him in search of coffee as if the sight of Alfred in a kitten sweater was an ordinary occurrence.

As it turned out, the kitten sweater was not the only ugly Christmas sweater Alfred owned. There was a monstrosity with sparkly garland attached, one that had actual functioning lights, and another that had a reindeer wearing a scarf with jingle bells attached to it that tinkled merrily as he walked. Bruce treated each one as if it were normal, but Jason felt as if he had just walked into another dimension where Alfred was not constantly the prim and proper British butler.

The sweaters emerged every Christmas, not that Jason got to spend many exclusively in the manor before the Joker blew him up. By the time he returned to the rest of the family, Alfred’s collection of truly hideous Christmas sweaters had expanded. When Jason had come to the manor for Christmas for the first time since his resurrection, Alfred had answered the door wearing a sweater with two narwhals on it using their horns to roast marshmallows. Jason had experienced a strange moment of deju vu as he once again felt as if the entire world had tilted off its axis.

This year, Alfred’s Christmas sweater had Santa Claus riding a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Jason snickered and allowed himself to be ushered inside. Already he could hear Tim and Damian’s verbal sparring while Dick tried to mediate and Bruce stayed well out of the whole mess. Jason was only a few seconds from stepping into complete and utter chaos.

“It’s good to be home, Alfie,” Jason said with a grin.

“Yes, Master Jason, I believe it is.”


	22. Day 22: Annual Christmas Charity Dinner

**Day 22: Annual Christmas Charity Dinner**

* * *

Cassandra Caine did not particularly like high society parties, even if they were sometimes held for good reason. Gotham’s annual Christmas Charity Dinner, held the Sunday evening before Christmas, was no exception. Cass was gussied up in a silver sheath dress and heels that could double as lethal weapons. Of course, she had been strongly advised not to use them as such unless it was a dire emergency, but she appreciated having a weapon close.

Dick was across the room dressed in a neat suit with a blue tie that nicely complimented his eyes. His smile was entirely plastic as he chatted with Charlene Coates, a rich debutante who’d been trying to woo him for longer than Cass had known her oldest brother. Charlene was leaning closer to him than he was clearly comfortable with, but Damian emerged moments later from the crowd to possessively hug Dick, scowling so fiercely at the debutante that she actually took a step back.

Satisfied that Dick was no longer going to have to suffer through the woman’s unwanted advances, Cass continued to scan the crowd. Jason had flat out refused to come to the event, insisting that he had to get some benefit out of most people still thinking that he was dead and buried. While Cass did not necessarily approve of Jason’s crime fighting methods, she did believe that he had the right idea about these kinds of events.

Everyone had fake, plastic smiles plastered on, lying with almost every word they spoke. Cass could read their body language like a book, and it frustrated her to see this kind of deceit surrounding her. Worse yet were the moments when the rich spoke deridingly about her family as if none of them had ears to hear with. If she could have skipped out without leaving her family to fend for themselves, she would have. Instead she endured and did her best to avoid any and all conversations that were not with her family members.

“Hey Cass, how’s it going?” a bright voice asked and Cass turned her head to smile softly at Steph, who slung her arm around the other girl’s shoulders. “Timmy’s busy with business talk and I’m bored,” Steph continued, unbothered as always by Cass’s silence. “Do you think anyone will notice if we sneak out early and go patrolling?” the blonde asked in an undertone.

Bruce would undoubtably notice their absence, but Cass doubted he would mind if they crept out quietly. “Let’s go,” Cass said and was rewarded with Steph’s conspiratorial grin. The two made for the exit, almost getting caught by some middle aged woman wearing far too much jewelry before Dick smoothly pulled her into his orbit, winking at them before turning to give his full attention to the woman. Cass and Steph hurried out into the cold night air, rushing between the snowflakes to where Alfred would undoubtably be waiting with the car. The night was still young, and they had a city to patrol.


	23. Day 23: Joker spam sends Batman Christmas cards

**Day 23: Joker spam sends Batman Christmas cards**

* * *

The first one arrived on December 3rd in a silver envelope. Jim Gordon was in the middle of skimming through the reports from the previous day when one of the newer officers brought it to him. “The Post Office wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, so they sent it here,” the young woman explained with a shrug. The envelope was addressed to _The Batman, The Batcave, Gotham City, NJ_. The stamp in the corner had a small red poppy on it. Jim sighed and placed on his desk by his coffee, making a mental note to take it upstairs next time he had to make the trip.

Batman was less than amused by the card, and the ones that rapidly followed after it. He had yet to tell Jim who any of them were from, but the set of his jaw and the way each card crumpled slightly from the force he was holding it said enough. Since he didn’t immediately jump off the roof after receiving each one, Jim assumed that they were annoyances rather than threats. Privately he suspected that they came from one of the half a dozen children Batman had running around the city, but he refused to voice that idea aloud.

The sender was revealed twenty cards into the whole ordeal by Nightwing, who was apparently visiting either from Bludhaven or New York. Batman’s first protégé landed on the roof just moments after Batman had opened the latest card and asked, “What’s that, B? Are we exchanging Christmas cards with Gotham PD now or something?”

“It’s nothing,” Batman growled, which was apparently a mistake because Nightwing snatched the card out of his mentor’s hand with impressive speed and darted just out of arm’s reach with it. Batman sighed like a particularly tired parent, but didn’t move to retrieve it. Jim stifled a laugh. Things like this were what made the concept of Batman being too intimidating to be around hilarious. Most of Gotham PD knew him as a very tired dad with too many children, and tried not to laugh too hard when the media or other police departments speculated otherwise.

After a moment of staring, Nightwing glanced up at Batman and asked, “Is this some kind of weird sibling prank I missed out on?”

“The handwriting makes it authentic,” was Batman’s reply. Nightwing glanced down at the card and then up at Batman again.

“Joker sent you a Christmas card?” Jim, who had just taken a sip of his new lukewarm coffee, wheezed.

“Twenty now,” Batman countered as Jim coughed a couple of times before he could breathe properly again.

“Twenty?” Nightwing repeated in almost complete disbelief. “Isn’t he locked up in Arkham though?”

“Apparently that does not stop him from spam sending Christmas cards,” was Batman’s dry response. Nightwing snickered.

“Have you told the others about this?”

“No,” Batman said in a resigned tone that suggested he already knew where his eldest was going with this. Nightwing grinned and bounced in place a little, reminding Jim fondly of the little boy who’d first appeared at Batman’s side. “Don’t show-”

“Hood, I know,” Nightwing interrupted easily. Jim suspected that Batman’s kids were really the only ones who successfully interrupted the Dark Knight. “We don’t need him going on a rampage into Arkham.” That said, the younger vigilante flipped off the roof, leaving Jim alone with Batman.

“So, the Joker, huh?” the police commissioner mused into the night.

“Yes,” Batman said, sounding tiredly resigned.

“At least it’s harmless.” All Jim got was a noncommittal grunt in response, and when he glanced over after another sip of his quickly cooling coffee, Batman was gone.


	24. Day 24: Last minute Christmas shopping

**24: Last minute Christmas shopping**

* * *

If he had a choice, Dick wouldn’t be here. He loved Babs dearly, but the last thing he’d wanted to do today was pick up a last minute purchase for a girl who was, at this point, practically his sister. Babs had spilled the whole story out during her lunch break at the library. She’d ordered a new watch for her father over a month ago. She’d been told it would be in two weeks before Christmas, but in reality it had only been delivered to the store this morning. Dick, sucker that he was, had agreed to go pick it up before the store closed. He was regretting that now.

Dick wove his way through the unrelenting press of people doing their last minute holiday shopping at the mall. He’d come to Gotham straight off a case against the HIVE, who’d been messing around with some kind of localized mind control. The Titans had stopped it, of course, but he knew he wasn’t the only one who was still a little jumpy around large crowds. Fights against small armies were never fun, but they were even less tolerable when the small army you were fighting was made entirely up of civilians.

He had almost made it to the jewelry store when he bumped into absolutely the last person he wanted to see the day before Christmas. Honestly, Dick was wound up so tightly that he almost punched the man in the face on instinct. He reigned himself in just in time, and allowed himself to be pulled out of the crush of people and into a small hall that probably led to the back of one of the shops.

“In trouble again, kid?” Slade Wilson asked, sounding more amused than anything else. Dick silently thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t actually punched the man.

“Hopefully not,” Dick replied. “Just picking up something for a friend and not being too comfortable around crowds after HIVE’s latest mess.”

“Ah, the mind control device,” Slade said knowingly. Dick had long ago stopped questioning where the mercenary got his information. Slade Wilson knew almost everything, and what he didn’t know, he could find out.

“Yeah.” Dick shoved his hands in his pockets and then decided to just bite the bullet. “So what brings you to this fine city? Business or pleasure?”

“Neither.” Slade’s little smirk said he knew exactly what Dick was getting at. “I had a five hour layover and didn’t want to stay in the airport. I’m doing some last minute Christmas shopping instead. I’ll be out of your hair before dinner time.”

“I’ll let you get back to it then,” Dick said easily, as if they’d just been having a friendly chat. “Say hi to Wintergreen for me.”

“Sure,” Slade agreed and then faded back into the crowd as if he’d never been there in the first place. Dick sighed, slumping against the wall for a moment and centering himself before stepping back out into the crowd. He still had a watch to pick up after all.


	25. Day 25: It's a Christmas miracle

**Day 25: It’s a Christmas miracle**

* * *

Sunrise was just staining the sky a pale pink when Bruce caught sight of them. At first he thought that his tired mind was playing tricks on him, simply showing him what he wanted to see, but upon taken a closer look, he realized he had not been mistake. There, standing in Park Row, were two people he could never forget.

Bruce dropped down onto the ground with a soft thump, cape settling comfortingly around his shoulders. Both figures startled and spun around to face him, eyes wide. Bruce stared for a moment before glancing around, taking note of dark windows and pulled shut curtains. Anyone who saw him would either be high out of their minds or counted as an unreliable witness. Reaching up a heavily gloved hand, he pulled back the cowl.

“Bruce? Is that you?” Martha Wayne, in the same dress she’d worn that fateful night, stepped forward out of her husband’s protective embrace. Her hand, see through and unsubstantial, reached out to gentle cradle his cheek.

“Hi Mom,” Bruce said, voice cracking, and Martha lunged forward to pull him into a hug. Her husband was right behind her, somehow enveloping them both, despite the fact that Bruce was fully grown now.

When they pulled back, Martha said, “Look at how much you’ve grown.”

“I think you’re taller than me now,” Thomas added with a little grin. Bruce stared at them mutely, feeling as if there was no air in his lungs. Tears trickled down his cheeks in a slow, steady stream.

Martha’s lips wobbled a little as she took him in, form flickering slightly in the growing beam of light that was slowly filling the alley. “Just tell us one thing before we have to go,” she said, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Are you happy?”

Bruce thought of the never ending crusade to clean Gotham up, the way the cold sunk into his bones during those long nights, and the hours spent going to every uncomfortable charity ball he could, just to do a little good. He thought of the Watchtower and the Justice League, some of whom he’d tried and failed to keep at arm’s length. Most of all, he thought of his children, some of whom were home for the holidays and some who had yet to come back. “Yes,” he told his parents with a tired smile. “I am.”

Martha and Thomas Wayne smiled back before flickering once more and then vanishing. Bruce swiftly brushed away the last of his tears and pulled the cowl back over his head before taking to the rooftops again. It was Christmas morning, and if he waited too long to get home, then his kids would start opening presents without him. Behind him, unseen in the alley, Martha and Thomas Wayne watched their only child swing away before vanishing in a glimmer of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I just want to take a moment to say thank you to my best friend, Snowcloud8. Not only did she come up with all the awesome prompts for this, but she's also managed to find time to take a look over them and give me edits! She's amazing and I really appreciate everything she's nice enough to do for me! If you get a chance, go take a look at her stories. They're all great!


End file.
